


The Black Blade

by whitewolfandthefox



Series: Geralt x Reader One Shots [3]
Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-12
Updated: 2020-03-12
Packaged: 2021-03-01 04:06:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,455
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23118940
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whitewolfandthefox/pseuds/whitewolfandthefox
Summary: Y/N is an assassin known as the Black Blade. She has taken to a contract to kill Geralt of Rivia, the White Wolf. She spends months tracking him, learning his habits and patterns in order to complete her contract, and falls for him over that time.Prompt: Anonymous - omg pls pretty pls for me write scenario 10 w/ geralt x reader!! Posted to @stretchkingblog97 on tumblrAfter stalking their prey and tracking their movements for so long, assassin CHARACTER has begun to fall in love with them.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Reader
Series: Geralt x Reader One Shots [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1645222
Comments: 6
Kudos: 88





	The Black Blade

It had been months of tracking, months of hiding, slowly learning his habits. You had never met him, but you knew him intimately. You knew that he talked to his horse when he was lonely, that he had given her the awful name of Roach. You knew that he travelled alone, and preferred this. You knew that he was an awesome warrior, and that he would be a challenge to apprehend. You knew he slept lightly, or not at all, having learned this particular fact when you made your first attempt.

He had woken before you had even made it into his camp, coming to his feet with his sword drawn, golden eyes piercing the darkness as you dropped to the forest floor, staying as still as you possibly could to avoid detection.

You had spent months following the Witcher known as the White Wolf. Normally, you wouldn’t spend this long on a contract, but the coin had been too good to turn down. You hadn’t met your employer, working through mediaries who had given you a handsome fee when you had agreed to take the job, promising even more when you delivered on their request.

They wanted you to kill Geralt of Rivia.

You were a renowned assassin, the name Black Blade known through the underworld. You had gained that name through your signature black daggers, made out of a dark metal so as not to reflect any light when you hunted in the shadows. You were a shadow, in and out without leaving a trace, and the colour of your blades reflected this. The whispers that accompanied your name were full of fear, speaking of the ruthlessness with which you dispatched your victims. 

You had just completed a difficult contract when you were approached with this offer.  _ Kill the Butcher of Blaviken. We will see that you can retire and live handsomely should you be successful. _

A Witcher was a daunting task, they were known for their enhanced senses and their fighting abilities. You were good, but you didn’t know that you were that good. The reward was too enticing though, after a short day of deliberation, you reached out to your contact and told them you would do it.

Shortly, you were provided with funds enough to buy new equipment, a new horse, hunting clothes, and supplies enough for a long hunt. You were delighted to find that you had enough coin to custom order a long, black sword. Your favoured weapons were your daggers and garrote, but a sword was better in a fight, and was better against monsters. Although they were not your primary work, you occasionally made a stop to dispatch a particularly bothersome one, though always for a price. You had had such a sword before, but had lost it when a job had gone sideways. You completed the contract but lost your weapon, so you were delighted to find you could now have a new one made. That alone made this job worth the effort.

You had made several attempts on Geralt’s life so far, but none had been successful so far. The first attempt, you had misjudged the Witcher. You had only been following him for a couple of weeks and had decided the best time to make your move was at night. He travelled alone and slept alone, you figured it would be an easy in and out, slit his throat in the night. You still hadn’t figured out what gave you away, the man had shot up as soon as you had gotten within fifteen feet of his camp, sword in hand. You had spent the next several hours motionless, your hood up to cover your face as the Witcher sat next to his fire, gazing into the darkness.

You had learned your lesson after that. You hadn’t realized that Witchers’ senses were so enhanced. Even when you were riding far back, the man would occasionally stop, suddenly turning to look behind him. You would dive for the treeline at these points, and after Geralt had performed this maneuver several times, you took to riding close to the trees.

When in town, you would try to approach him unnoticed, possibly slip a knife between his ribs, prick him with your poisons, slip a potion into his drink. No matter what you did, you were unable to get close to him. He was always alone, no one would approach him, making it difficult for you to do so. Even when was in a crowd, he always seemed to know you were there, and you were reluctant to tip your hand.

The most recent attempt was somewhat closer, taking place in an inn. You had dressed in a tight red dress, the fabric hugging your curves. The dress flowed off of your shoulders, highlighting your collar bones and pale skin. Long sleeves adorned your arms, ending in silver wire bracelets that could quickly be turned into a garrote. The skirt was long, a slit running up the side to just below your hip, hiding the dagger strapped to your thigh. The back of the dress was laced tightly, allowing various small knives and other weapons to be tucked into the fabric. You had lined your eyes with kohl and painted your lips, highlighting your sharp features.

You had spent the night fending off the advances of other men, waiting for your target to let his guard down. He had stayed at his table, eating and drinking all night. He didn’t even glance at the other working girls in the tavern, much less you. Though you tried, you couldn’t get close to him all night without seeming suspicious. Every other girl ignored him after the first was blatantly ignored. You could feel him looking at you occasionally, but not with any interest, just a professional courtesy to see who else was in the room with him.

Frustrated, you went to the bar in search of a mug of ale. The next time a man sidled up to you, complimenting you on your beauty, you smiled and fluttered your eyelashes at him, allowing him to escort you out of the inn.

Once outside, you were quick to snatch one of your daggers, striking him in the temple and slowly lowering him to lean against one of the buildings, retrieving your belongings from your room and slipping off into the night.

***~*~*~*~***

Before you could make your next attempt, a problem made itself apparent. Namely, in the shape of a lively bard. Although you were an assassin, you still had morals. Unlike the mercenaries who would kill anyone and anything, you chose your victims carefully. Only those who were truly deserving of death’s embrace received the kiss of your blade. Jaskier, as you discovered he was called, was guilty of nothing except an overindulgence in fine wine and fine woman. Nothing that you would determine to be a crime worthy of your touch.

The bard travelled with Geralt for the next few weeks, their paths seemingly going in the same direction. While you were frustrated at this interruption, it gave you a chance to learn more about Geralt’s mannerisms and habits. 

You learned that he hated showing feelings, but had certain tells. His lips would turn up just the slightest at the corners when he was amused or happy. For the most part his face was still, but you had been trained to read people. The slight wrinkling of his eyes, the tip of his head, this man was very emotive. Even his single word responses told much, depending on the inflection, he could communicate interest, happiness, displeasure. 

His body language was very expressive as well. He would remain alert, but you could see the exact moment when he turned to alarm. When he was frustrated or sad, his posture would tense. This would happen often when he was thrown out of a town just for being a Witcher. You sympathized with him, when the people would discover who you were and what you did, you were often leaving a few hours later with your tail between your legs. 

Just like you, he never unpacked his bags, even when the two would camp or stay at an inn for longer than a day. You always had to be ready to leave, to be prepared for the worst. Often, Geralt would leave beige Jaskier, waiting in the woods for him when the villagers started to get twitchy. 

You learned that he cared more than he wanted to. Just the fact that he would wait for Jaskier was a sign of this. He would put up with the bard’s singing for hours on end, even when you were starting to question your decision not to harm him, Geralt would only grunt in response to Jaskier’s endless questions, would never lose patience at the incessant chatter. 

Your view of the Witcher changed drastically after he fought and killed a Selkiemore, putting himself into danger to save a town and then refusing the coin offered to him. You could see how thin the children were, how worn the villagers’ clothes were. You felt guilty there, dressed in your good hunting leathers. You left several gold coins in that town before you left. 

You could hear Jaskier berating Geralt for not taking the coin as they travelled down the road. Geralt just grunted in reply, trying to dismiss the conversation. Jaskier wasn’t leaving it though, continuing to pester the Witcher before he spun in his saddle to pin the bard with a piercing glare. 

“Did you not see the state that those people were in? They could barely afford to feed their children, much less pay me. I will not take coin from those who need it.”

The bard was shocked into silence, though only for a moment until he burst into song once more. You could hardly hear Jaskier’s singing as your thoughts whirled around your head. Everything you had been taught about Witcher’s was slowly being dismantled the longer you followed this man. They were said to have no feelings, yet Geralt was more expressive than any other man you knew, in his own way. He cared more than the lords in charge of the land, did more for the people than anyone else did. He frequently put himself in danger when no one else would, taking the most dangerous jobs and occasionally refusing payment when he didn’t think the people could afford it. 

He was the complete opposite of you. 

You thought you only killed those who deserved it, imagined yourself a saviour to their victims, an avenging angel. You realized you were what the people thought Witchers were, killing only for coin, killing to survive. 

Killing because they enjoyed it. 

You didn’t realize you had stopped moving until Jaskier’s voice had faded to almost nothing. Shaking yourself to rid you of the thoughts gathered in your head, you hurried to catch up to the pair, making sure to stay out of sight. 

That moment changed you, and you found yourself wondering at how much truth you had been given when your contract outlined why exactly they wanted Geralt dead.

***~*~*~*~***

In the next town, Jaskier and Geralt parted ways. You should have felt happy that the bard was finally gone, that you had a free shot at the Witcher, but you found yourself hesitating to strike. The morals that had formed your shield had suddenly been shattered, leaving you reeling and unsure of what you were killing for. The one was seen as unfeeling and cold cared more about the people he saved, regardless of what they had done or might do. You chose your victims based on a set of rules you had decided on. What made you better than him? What gave you the right to choose who lives and who dies?

You spent your nights guarding the man, patrolling the forest to keep the beasts who would venture near away. The men who came together to throw Geralt out of town were quickly disbanded. A few threats and a showing of your daggers were all that was needed, it rarely took force to make them leave. When it did, you left them unconscious, dispatching them quickly and neatly, not even unsheathing your blades. 

It has now been almost 6 months since you had taken the contract and you needed to finish it soon. Your employers are starting to get impatient, a mediary meeting you at an inn where Geralt had stopped on a job. 

“It seems that your abilities were grossly overestimated when you were recommended to us. My employer didn’t think it would take this long for you to complete the kill.” The man kept his hood up at the table where the two of you sat, tucked away into a corner. 

“I ran into some complications. A bard was travelling with him, and you know my terms. No collateral damage, I kill only those who I have selected.” Your stony face hid your raging emotions. The last few weeks had seen you reluctant to go through with your kill, wondering at the truth of the accusations leveled at Geralt. Everyone had heard of the butcher at Blaviken, but you had come to the realization that there might be more to that story. It had been blown so out of proportion over the years that it was more of a folk tale than a true retelling of the event. 

“We know your terms, that you think that just because you kill criminals you are not one yourself. Finish the job, before we put a contract out for the both of you.”

With that, your contact stood, dropping a small bag onto the table with a clink. “For your troubles, and a reminder of what waits for you at the completion of your task.” He turned and walked away as you stared at the bag, conflicting emotions raging within you. 

You were startled out of your revery as the man in question came down the stairs, a burst of chatter before a moment of silence following him in. As you watched him, you saw Geralt’s face tighten at the silence. You felt a sharp pain in your chest, recognizing the distrust the people had for him, the feeling of rejection and hatred. It was the same they had for you. 

_ Stop it _ , you chided yourself,  _ get this job over and you will be paid enough you won’t have to worry about it anymore. You can choose your jobs, take the ones where they won’t drive you out, where they will thank you for ridding them of one more problem.  _

_ But do I really care so little that I would kill the man who was saving others? _

As you came to your decision, the door to the inn flew open and a woman staggered in, sobbing. Being the one closest to her, you grabbed her as she stumbled, depositing her into the chair you had just vacated. 

“My baby,” she wailed, “my baby! She’s been taken by a monster!”

“What monster.” You started at the rough voice that came from over your shoulder. Turning your head, you were met with golden eyes. You quickly focused back on the woman, ignoring the feeling in your chest that accompanied the eye contact with the Witcher. 

“There, there is a monster, it’s- it’s covered in scales, it’s huge! It took my little girl, Witcher, it flew away with her, you must help me!” The woman gripped your arms as you supported her. 

“A description, woman, I need a description! Did it have wings, claws, teeth? Where was it? How big was it? I need to know what I am facing if I am to get your daughter back.” 

You shot Geralt a glare, taking the woman into your arms, gently shushing her as you stroked her hair. “How big was it? Let’s start with that.”

You could feel the Witcher’s glare burning a hole in the back of your head. Ignoring him, you coaxed more information out of the hysterical mother. It was a hunched black creature that had flown down and grabbed the child out of her mother’s arm. Covered in scales and feathers, the thing had two hind legs and massive wings, standing taller than the average man. 

Having passed the exhausted woman over to the matronly innkeeper, you stood and pivoted to look at Geralt. “It sounds like a Shrieker. You will need help.”

He scoffed, “Not from you. I will be fine.”

Surprised at the abrupt rejection, you shook your head and stepped back, silently gesturing at the door. You didn’t look at him as he studied you closely before turning and heading into the night. As the door shut behind him you turned on your heel, racing for the stairs that led to your room. Once there, you donned your armour and buckled your sword to your waist, a combination of ungalvanized steel and silver, made to fight monsters but to still have your signature black colour. You also grabbed your bow, slinging it and your quiver across your back. Once outfitted, you descended the stairs and headed for the stables to retrieve your horse, not allowing yourself to think of what you were heading to do, whether you were going to help or to hinder. You passed the weeping mother on your way, sparing her a glance before you were out the door, mounting your horse and following the Witcher’s path.

***~*~*~*~***

The battle had started by the time you arrived, you could hear the shrieks from the creature as well as the screams of the child. You ignored the sounds of battle, instead following the sound of the child, deciding that that was the safest thing to concern yourself with at the moment. You were conflicted, unsure what you would do when faced with the Witcher.

The Shrieker had landed in a large clearing below a cliff, sheer stone walls on one side and trees on the other. You could see various shelves on the wall, covered in small bones, blood dried from where it had run down. The dirt was churned up with claw marks from the comings and goings of the creature. The Witcher was currently engaged with the Shrieker, ducking under its wings when it slashed, attempting to make his way to its undefended back, not quite able to duck away long enough to do so.

You quickly found the little girl, cowering against the stone face. She was unharmed but for long scratches on her arms. There were small blood trails running from some of them, but no fresh blood was weeping from the wounds. You gently lifted her into your arms, intending to make your way back to your horse and to leave Geralt with the creature when you sensed a presence at your back.

  
Without thinking, you tucked the girl against your chest and dove to the side, tucking your body around the child’s to protect her, rolling on your shoulder before coming back up to your feet, the girl still in your arms. You dodged again, avoiding a swipe of the creature’s wing in your direction, moving as quickly as you could to where Geralt was getting back to his feet. A quick glance showed a slice to his armour, the gap weeping blood. You were unable to see the wound, but based on the amount of blood he was losing, you didn’t think it was too deep.

“I told you not to come,” he growled out, glancing at you with black eyes. You started slightly, before remembering what you had learned about Witchers in your training. You guessed he had taken an elixir to help in the fight, which had turned his eyes black.

“You didn’t seem to be doing very well by yourself, so I stepped in. You should know from your craft that the most effective attack method against Shriekers involves two people,” you shot back, stepping slightly behind the man as he swung his sword to catch the next swipe of a wing. He grunted, glancing back at you.

“Get the girl out of here, she’s in danger the longer she’s in the clearing.” He continued blocking attacks, not moving much in any direction. He released a shout as a wing clipped him, causing a trickle of blood to run down the side of his face. Realizing he was giving you a chance to get away from the creature, you gripped the girl tighter as she cowered into your shoulder, running to where you had left your horse. You quickly hoisted her into the saddle and handed her the reins. “You can ride, yes?”

At her nod, you turned the horse in the direction of home and safety, jabbing him in the side to force him into a gallop as the little girl clung to the pommel, crouched low over the horse’s neck as it ran. You cinched the bracer on your left arm tighter before reaching behind you to retrieve your bow. You ran back towards the battle, retrieving an arrow and notching it to the string as you went. As you came back to the clearing, you set your feet, aiming for the creature’s eyes. As it turned towards you, you shouted “Down!”

Geralt dropped to his stomach and rolled out of the way of a claw as you released your arrow, allowing it to fly and pierce one of the Shrieker’s eyes. It released a scream, flapping its wings as it reared back on its legs, swinging its head to focus on you. You darted away as it lunged, the spike on its head just missing your ribs. You ran to the side, again sighting and releasing, missing the creature as it turned to go after Geralt who had just struck at its exposed back.

It screeched and staggered in pain, away from Geralt and towards you. As it turned, it slashed at you with a wing, causing you to leap forward, rolling under its wing, forcing you to drop your bow as you went. Coming to your feet, you backed up until you were side by side with Geralt. You unsheathed your sword, ignoring the widening of his eyes as he saw the distinctive colour of the blade.

“You go left, I’ll go right and make noise, try to get it to focus my way. Geralt grunted his assent, readjusting his grip on his sword. 

“Now!” you shouted, leaping to right as you continued to yell and move in sharp, jerky motions, trying to draw attention. You kept one eye on Geralt as he moved to the back of the creature and one eye on the Shrieker itself, bobbing and weaving under the spike and wings as it lunged at you.

You hissed as you felt a wing slice through the leather on your back, hot blood beginning to run down the skin. You hadn’t moved quite fast enough. You swung at the offending wing, catching it and leaving a deep gash in the skin. It roared and swung its head at you, catching you in the chest and throwing you against the stone cliff.

You hit hard, sliding down to sit dazed at the base of the wall, watching as Geralt shouted and leapt, landing on the creature’s back before slashing down its spine. It screamed, thrashing and throwing Geralt off, turning and leaping at him before he could get out of the way. You screamed as it claws opened deep lacerations across the Witcher’s chest, dropping him to the ground as if he was a doll whose strings had been cut.

The world crystallized around you as you forced yourself to your feet, your sword gripped tightly in your hand. Sensing the new threat, the Shrieker ignored the injured Witcher at its feet and spun to face you as you ran towards it, ducking under its blow, rolling and coming up at its back. You thrust your sword forwards, aiming for the slash Geralt had made earlier. Your blade struck home and you pulled down, further injuring the creature as you severed the muscles to its wing.

It pulled away, attempting to crawl to the edge of the clearing, its wings flapping in vain. You followed it, dodging the claws and ignoring the burning line down your back as you chopped at it, finally ending the fight when you struck home and twisted, severing the Shrieker’s spinal cord. 

It hadn’t even collapsed before you had dropped your sword, turning and racing back towards the crumpled man, turning him over onto his back to find a paler than normal complexion and closed eyes. Using one of your daggers, you cut away his armour to get to the wound below.

You thanked whatever gods were out there for Geralt’s Witcher constitution. The bleeding had already started to slow. You exhaled sharply at the sight of the mangled flesh, ripping a piece of his ruined shirt off to press against the wound with one hand as you released your harness with your other, searching for the catch that would reveal the fake bottom in your quiver.

You quickly reached for the items kept there, thread, a needle, and a healing potion. Pulling the cork out of the vial with your teeth, you poured half of it in Geralt’s mouth, massaging his throat to ensure he swallowed before dumping the other half over the wound. You ignored the low moan that came from the man at your actions, taking the needle and thread and stitching the wound closed.

That finished, you left him lying on the ground and went in search of his horse. You had run yours off with the little girl, but you were sure that Roach would be around here somewhere. Finding her, you led her back to the clearing, soothing her when she balked at the stench of the Shrieker. 

Taking the bags off her side, you returned to the Witcher to find slitted golden eyes, the black having faded away while he was injured. Relief coursed through you at the sight of him conscious. He watched you with suspicion as you rifled through his bags as you searched, finding what you were looking for. You turned back to him and held up a roll of bandages before gesturing at him, sliding a hand behind his back as he struggled to sit up. Without speaking, you wound the bandages around his torso. You refused to meet his gaze, feeling his eyes on you the entire time you worked.

You stood, turning on your heel and starting towards the edge of the clearing, trusting that the man would be able to get himself back to the town.

“Wait.” A raspy voice came from behind you, freezing you in your tracks. “I know who you are, Black Blade.”

You looked down at the ground before slowly turning to face him. He was sitting on his own now, staring at you with an expressionless face.

“I know you were hired to kill me.”

Refusing to meet his eyes, you shook your head, releasing a sigh. “Yes.”

“Then why didn’t you? You had the chance.” He sounded confused, as if he had expected to have died at your hand.

Looking to the side, you debated your answer. Geralt waited patiently, still staring at you with those golden eyes you had come to favour. “I don’t know. It felt wrong.” You glanced at him out of the corner of your eye, surprised when you saw him lift and drop one shoulder before wincing.

“Thank you.” Startled, you turned to look at him fully.

He must have recognized the shocked look on your face as he chuckled, slowly shifting as he struggled to get to his feet. You didn’t move as he approached you, invading your personal space. You tilted your head back slightly so that you could meet his gaze.

“For helping me. You trusted me enough to guard your back, even though you had no idea what I would do. I knew who you were, I could have taken the opportunity to kill you just as much as you could have as well.”

You shook your head at this, denying that he would have harmed you. “I knew you wouldn’t, you look out for people, you don’t hurt them.”

He caught you with his gaze, “And how do you know that?”

You hesitated, debating how much to tell him. “I have seen you forgo payment in poorer towns, you will often spend more money on items than you really need to so that you can help those who need it. You are a good man, Geralt, better than I am. I am as bad as the monsters that you hunt.”

“You say you are a monster, yet you didn’t harm Jaskier while he was travelling with me. In fact, you stopped attempting to harm me at all. I have heard stories of you, Black Blade, and you don’t hurt those who don’t deserve it.”

Shocked, you stared at him. “You knew I was making attempts?”

He nodded, “I also knew that after the first one or two they stopped being real attempts. You left signs, they stopped surprising me after the initial attempts. I must have changed your opinion of me. You have a good soul, you won’t hurt those unless they hurt others. I am glad that your opinion of me changed.”

You looked away, thinking of the day when you saw him stop and buy a meat cake only to give it to a child who had been staring at the cart hungrily. At that moment, you realized that you wouldn’t be able to kill him. 

You didn’t realize tears had started to run down your face until Geralt took a step towards you, bringing a hand to your face to wipe them away. He gently placed two fingers under your chin, turning your head to look at him, his golden eyes soft and open. 

“We have met before, you and I, though I don’t think you realized it at the time. It was many years ago, you saved my life. I had been imprisoned by a king for being unable to free his daughter from a curse. He had gone mad, ravaging the country and killing his people for no reason. I was the next one to be hung when you intervened. You made a public display of him, a message to those that would hurt others that the Black Blade is always watching and is ready to step in. I never forgot that to this day.” He smiled softly. “You saved my life, and you have spared it again.”

You attempted a watery smile, before the expression dropped from your face. Your heart sunk as you remembered the threat. You would never again be free, you would always be looking over your shoulder, waiting for someone to come out of the woods after you. Your name and reputation wouldn’t protect you for long. They also wouldn’t protect Geralt, you realized. As long as you had been hunting him no one else would, for fear of your retribution. Now that there would be contracts out on each of you, you would never be safe. You realized you wanted him to be safe.

“I haven’t saved it, I have condemned it. Now that I have failed to kill you, my employer will come after us both.”

Geralt chuckled, “I would like to see them take down the two of us.”

Hope flared in your chest. “The two of us?” you questioned.

He gently tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. “Of course, mouse. Just as you have been watching me these past months, I have also known you were there. Not all the time, no, you are very good at your job, but I would see you occasionally in town. I always wanted to get close to you, but I was worried I would spook you.”

Your heart fluttered at his words as you reached up to gently grasp the wrist of the hand that now cupped your face. You smiled gently up at him, “Then together, we can keep each other safe.”

His breath ghosted over your lips as Geralt slowly leaned down, “Always.” His lips captured yours as his arms came around you, pulling you into his chest. You were careful to avoid his wounds, placing your hands on his waist as you melted into his embrace, savouring the feeling of physical affection, something you rarely received. 

Panting, you separated, leaning your forehead against his. “Together then.”

“Together,” Geralt agreed, before leaning down to capture your lips once more.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope y'all are enjoying my random one shots! If you have any requests, come yell at me on tumblr @stretckingblog97


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